LORD OF THE RINGS The Fall Of Boromir
by Icephoenix007
Summary: A narrative story of the death of Boromir - from his perspective. Written for a high-school english assignment, based on the film, and by a LOTR outsider. I don't pretend to be the next J.R.R Tolkien, that would be impossible. So for any die-hard fans, fo
1. Temptation Of The Ring

Prologue  
TEMPTATION OF THE RING  
  
"None of us should wander alone, you least of all." Frodo spun clockwise as he heard my voice, surprised. "So much depends on you." I reached down and collected another small log, and laid it on top the pile, which was growing, in my hands. I looked up, and to my shock, saw an expression of fear plastered on his face. "Frodo? I know why you seek solitude. You suffer. I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths that we might take." The little one spoke up "I know what you would say and it would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart." My blood rushed through my veins, igniting a fury within me from which I never thought I possessed. "Warning! Against what? We are all afraid Frodo. But to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have... Don't you see? That is madness..." how could we possibly destroy the One Ring? Our only chance to destroy Sauron and his evil forces forever! "There is no other way." Frodo exclaimed, almost pleading with me.  
  
But this only fueled my anger, and I exploded! "I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" I threw down the rough wood which was sitting in my arms, sending them hurtling into the ground, the leaves littered on the earth crackling under their weight. "If you would but lend me the ring..." without even realizing it, my hand reached out and towards ring chained to the halfling, who screamed "No!" and Frodo backed up, cowering away.  
  
What was he so afraid of? Surely not me? If so, how dare him! I've done nothing more then be friendly to the little Halfling! The only reason he's here is because Gandalf entrusted him with the ring! It should be I the one who carries it, I should be the one who saves Gondor! "Why do you recoil? I am no thief..." I took a step towards the Hobbit, and to my disgust, he took a leap backwards, his hand clutching the ring that was preciously hanging around his scrawny little neck. "You are not yourself." who is he to tell me, who, what, I am? Does he not understand? He will kill us all! He is insane! "What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the ring. And you will beg for death before the end!" I could see a rising panic take over the Hobbit. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It could have been mine. It should have been mine! Give it to me!" An unchallenged desire overtook me, and I lunged for the Ringbearer! He tried to back off, but I caught him by the waist and we fell onto the dirt. It was a flurry of motion as I attempted to grab hold of the precious. The hobbit yelped out "No!" he squirmed. "Give it to me!" then, in an instant he was gone.  
  
I was dazed temporarily, and was suddenly kicked by what seemed was the wind. It was that foolish Frodo, he put on the Ring! "I see your mind! You will take the ring to Sauron! You will betray us! You go to your death, and the death of us all!" I got up and yelled into the trees, yelled so hard the blood rushed into the veins of my head, pounding, the sounds of betrayal. "Curse you! Curse you! And all the halflings!" And with my energy spent, my knees went weak and I collapsed to the ground, into the undergrowth.  
  
And like the turning of the tides, my emotions changed. Blackness no longer possessed my heart, but the bitter aftertaste of my actions resided. I could feel the tears swelling up inside of me. What in the name of Gondor have I done? It's not Frodo who is the fool, but I, blinded by the ring! I have killed us all...what have I done. Where did he go? I must save him, protect him, redeem myself! "Frodo? Frodo? What have I done? Please, Frodo. Frodo..." but my cries went unanswered. 


	2. The Fall of Boromir

1  
THE FALL OF BOROMIR  
  
As I lay in the dry leaves, my heart eased and the fury that just seconds ago possessed me, seeped from my body. The pounding in my head did not seem to go away, the unusual chaotic rumbling echoed in my ears...wait, chaotic rumbling? I concentrated harder on the source of the sound, and heat the familiar thunder of troops clad in Iron Armour. My head snapped up as I heard the screams and roars of a legion of dark, foul creatures...Orcs. I shot up and my hand instinctively reached for my sword, my ears perked, and my mind began to race.  
  
Suddenly I heard a small squeaky voice scream out from over the ridge. "I know it's working – run!" one of the halfings, Merry? I ran over the fallen branches and rocks that littered my path crossing the ridge. Then through the trees I could see the little ones, Orcs gaining on them from all sides. I unsheathed my long sword; the sound of the metal being drawn forth was always exhilarating and customary before a battle. The sunlight caught on the blade, sending out patterns of white on the trees around me, warning all foes in sight to stay clear.  
  
As I charged forward, an Orc slung his axe high above his head, preparing to swing it down upon the two helpless hobbits, faces frozen in terror. Using my shoulders I brought my sword around and swung it towards the beast, the clean blade slicing open the crackly, dry skin, charging through the fresh raw meat and exploding out in a plume of red blood. The Orc was dead before it hit the ground.  
  
Merry and Pippin looked on with a mixed expression of pain and relief, but the relief soon dispersed and their eyes widened. Sensing the danger, I ducked, the blunt blade of an Orcs sword sailing inches from my scalp, the gush of wind playing with my hair. I twisted my torso and brought my sword upwards; catching the monster under the jaw, slicing upwards until – with a pop – it cracked out from the top of the skull, impaling him.  
  
Suddenly I remembered the Horn of Gondor, a horn of which, if blown, commands assistance from any loyal subject to the thrown of Gondor. Although I knew we were to far from my homeland, and far too close to the evils of Mordor for it to be of any great use, I knew it would at least attract those of the fellowship. I held the horn to my mouth, and using the air from my lungs, let out a long deep bellow, which seemed to echo on with the woods for eternity...  
  
Before I knew it, more dark warriors ran out from the trees, forcing me to wield my long sword yet again, to thwart the oncoming attacks, to protect the two hobbits. The sight was discouraging, as no matter how many Orcs I took down, there was always more to replace them.  
  
All of a sudden, the sky seemed to be overcast, the world darkened and the air turned damp. I looked up to see a large figure on the ridge, a bow pointed in my direction. But it was too late. The arrow hit just above my heart; the steel tip pierced my clothing, then my skin, slicing open the delicate organism, then pushing it apart as the thicker bulk of the arrow slipped through. It then proceeded to lodge itself against the Bones in my shoulder, where it settled.  
  
The wind was knocked out of me like a boulder had been dropped on my lungs, I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. No, no, not like this...I will not be killed by some foul demon! I jumped up from my knees as the next Orc arrived, and erased it from existence, then continued to fight on in order to protect the two halflings. A minute passed before I heard another arrow flying through the forest like a finch, then imbedding itself in the space below my heart. My eyes began to glaze, I could take no more. I could feel my lungs begin to fill with fluid...no doubt blood, and my head felt light, my energy draining...  
  
I looked up at Pippin, the poor innocent Hobbit looking down at me with pity, his eyes scouring my face, looking for reason. Death will be his fate soon, unless... Using every last ounce of strength in my body, I leaped up from the ground, screaming in angst and anger. One, two, three more Orcs down - my body urged for rest, pain squeezing at every limb – four, five and then – THWACK!  
  
I knew it was coming. But there was nothing I could do. I looked down and examined the final messenger of death. The thick wooden arrow stuck out from my heart, the biggest splinter of them all. And for the last time, I fell back to the earth. While I could not see them, I could hear the Hobbits scream and charge into the fray, but in vein. The larger more powerful Orcs scooped them up and carried them off. To where? I did not want to think of the possibilities. I had failed them.  
  
Legions of Orcs ran by as I kneeled defenseless, useless in the middle of the path. The shame and sense of defeat was overpowering. Here I was, a human and representative of the kingdom of Gondor, defeated by a few corrupted beasts, now considered harmless, and fragile, the position was degrading. A pair of armored feet steeped into my view. I stared up at the large, disgusting being, with his sword swaying in front of my face. He raised his blade and prepared to lob at my neck. Accepting my fate, I closed my eyes... 


	3. Shadow Of The Ring

Epilogue  
SHADOW OF THE RING  
  
When I awakened, I was surprised to find myself still in one piece. A shadow passed and stood before me, my eyes groggily looked upwards to identify the figure. At first I thought it was the reaper himself, scythe readied to harvest my soul from the mortal world. But as my eyes adjusted and the fog cleared briefly, I could see Aragorn, tired and bruised, kneeling by my side. Despite the pain in my chest, and the air seeping out from my lungs, I urged the words from my mouth, "They took the little ones!" Examining my wounds Aragorn replied, "Stay still" but my mind was still on my encounter with the Ringbearer. "Frodo! Where is Frodo?" he glanced at my face, "I let Frodo go." my heart blackened, guilt seeping from every pore of my body. "Then you did what I could not...I tried to take the ring from him." I watch Striders face, which showed no sign of surprise.  
  
Instead, "The Ring is beyond our reach now." The wounds were taking there toll, and I involuntarily shuddered. "Forgive me, I did not see. I have failed you all." Aragorn's eyes fell on mine, understanding "No Boromir. You fought bravely. You have kept your honour." His hand sweeped across my chest and rested on one of the arrows, but I grabbed onto his wrist, preventing him from pulling it out. "Leave it...it is over" What have I done? All is for nothing, because of me.  
  
The Ring blinded me, drawing it into it's trap, nothing more then a Nazgul, a slave. I am weak! A fool! All hope is lost... "The world of men will fall into darkness, and my city in ruin.", Aragorn's head lowered for a moment, then I noticed something...felt it, a change of...spirit, his head raised and his eyes stared into mine, "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall. Nor our people fail!" "Our people...our people", and then it dawned on me, we are both children of Gondor, tied by blood and heritage, for he is more then just a Ranger...but true Heir to the throne which is now threatened.  
  
Suddenly, a sharp pain reached up my spine, pierced my heart and sent waves of agony throughout my body. My time is coming to an end. I reached out for my sword, from which I was raised, and from which I will die. Just out of reach, Aragorn placed the sword in my palm, and I lay it on my chest. "I would have followed you my brother...my captain...my King." The last words I would ever utter, as my body began to grow cold , I could feel life begin to retreat from my mortal remains. Like a whisper among the trees, I could hear a comforting voice, "Be at peace, son of Gondor", before slipping into the shadows. 


End file.
